


If Love Is Hell, Then Set Me On Fire

by SumiArana



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Breeding, Captivity, Dubious Consent, F/M, Multiple Orgasms, Possessive Sex, RE5 Jill, Rough Sex, accidental drug ingestion, hallucinogenic gas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:27:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24258133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SumiArana/pseuds/SumiArana
Summary: What she didn’t remember was when she stopped wishing to go home and here became home. The compound they shared, the bedroom they shared, the life they shared. She used to day dream about Chris and the BSAA coming in and rescuing her, taking her back to the states, patching up the holes the device was bound to leave in her chest. Now she found herself thinking of cool, quiet nights spent with Albert.Commission for MrsAlbertWesker.
Relationships: Jill Valentine/Albert Wesker
Kudos: 40
Collections: Weskertine





	If Love Is Hell, Then Set Me On Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MrsAlbertWesker](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=MrsAlbertWesker).



> This fic is a commission for the perfect, lovely MrsAlbertWesker aka Jackie. I love her.

Jill was acutely aware of the majini milling about below the platform her and Albert Wesker were currently perched on. She could hear footsteps, snippets of conversations, soft clinking metal. She spread out on the leather couch in the small office, her legs placed _just so_ stretched out from her. She was afforded a certain amount of comfort, something that Excella always had something to say about. It made her smile inwardly when the Italian woman would walk in and see her, rolling her eyes and making a snide comment under her breath. Jill took pride in being Wesker’s favorite.

She leafed through a couple of reports from Irving; details from his most recent missions, inventory of bullets and health supplies, lists of imperfect BOW and expired samples to be destroyed, weather reports for the upcoming week. The latter, Jill was pretty sure, had been given to Irving to keep him busier longer. She wasn’t sure who disliked him more, Wesker or herself. They were both much happier when he was busy.

Well, she was supposed to be reading the reports, anyways. Today, it was more like skimming. She gave a soft sigh, using the small stack of paper to fan herself after a few moments of feigned attention. Her skin is slick with a layer of sweat, the heavy material of the battle suit not helping the heat of the desert. She’d grown used to it by now, or as used to one could grow used to triple digit temperatures.

She remembered the early days before the drug coursing through her veins; the way she would fight and try to run, disobey his wishes and be punished. At one point she’d actually managed to get out of the compound before she had been intercepted; Wesker wasn’t happy when his majini brought her back. She spent the next week shackled with heavy iron cuffs around her ankles.

She remembered the early days _after_ the drug, too, as he fiddled with her dose, finding out exactly how much it took before she succumbed to every one of his commands. Some days he intentionally gave her too little, leaving just enough room for her to fight back when he pinned her to whatever surface was closest. Other days he gave her too much and soothed her when she vomited. His touch was comforting, like before. Her head in his lap, fingers stroking her temples and platinum hair as her body shook in between rounds of purging.

What she didn’t remember was when she stopped wishing to go home and _here_ became home. The compound they shared, the bedroom they shared, the life they shared. She used to day dream about Chris and the BSAA coming in and rescuing her, taking her back to the states, patching up the holes the device was bound to leave in her chest. Now she found herself thinking of cool, quiet nights spent with Albert. A luxury that they were rarely ever afforded but she hoped for constantly.

It had been two weeks since the last time they had any spare time to spend together and it was beginning to wear on her. Half the days in the past week he’d sent her to bed after dinner, not joining her until the wee hours of the morning. She craved his touch, his mouth...

Jill was abruptly shaken from her thoughts as Wesker cursed. She stood, her heels making soft clicking noises on the floor beneath her. She rushed to Albert’s side, eyes scanning the area to see what caused the normally stoic man to respond in that way. She spotted a few majini in a scuffle which was honestly pretty standard, but her eyes settled at the far end of the compound – Ricardo Irving was attempting to dispose of some large iron containers.

“That’s the wrong batch,” Wesker growled, words slipping through clenched teeth. His fist was curled beside him, black leather a stark contrast against the rusty metal railing.

“What?” Jill’s brow furrowed and she hurried to grab the paperwork that had fallen, scattered across the ground when she rose. Her fingers closed around the page she was looking for; this month’s destroy list. She scanned it, reading aloud the names of the items on the list as quickly as she could muster.

Before she could finish though, there was a small explosion from the far end of the facility followed by an audible yelp and crash from the New Yorker as he was thrown into a nearby beam. The next few moments were chaos; gunfire and flash bangs, followed by Irving pulling the fire alarm.

The warehouse began to fill with a kind of fog like haze while the recorded voice instructed everyone to evacuate. Jill grabbed her SMG, slinging the strap over her shoulder. She threw her cloak over her shoulders, ready to brave the bright African sun. She prayed this wasn’t one of the many toxic gases in the compound.

“No, Jill.” He put a hand on her shoulder, spinning her and guiding her back into the office she had just emerged from. He closed the door behind them, locking it as quickly as he could behind them.

Jill pulled her cloak around her nose and mouth in a vain attempt to stop breathing in the gas, watching the blonde man flip one of the many switches on the console on the far side of the room. She was already beginning to feel light headed. She heard the ventilation system kick in as she collapsed on the couch.

It took several moments for the ventilation to clear the fog. By then, her head was buzzing as though she’d had too much to drink. Subtle shapes were forming in her field of vision; like a brick wall with something liquid moving under the surface. She was acutely aware of how damp the crotch of her battle suit had gotten. She pressed her hand against her inner thigh, wondering if she’d wet herself in all of the excitement. 

She barely had time to react as Wesker’s gloved hand pinched the zipper of her battle suit. She could do nothing but watch as her pale skin was exposed as each tooth of the zipper separated. Her nipples were hard – she gasped as his thumb ghosted over the nub. His touch seemed magnified tenfold, the smallest touch causing her to shudder.

He plunged his hand into her suit, growling appreciatively as he found her positively soaked. He buried two fingers in her and captured her mouth in a deep kiss. He stroked upwards, fingers pressing, curling, stroking against her as his tongue invaded her mouth.

Jill was unable to do anything but arch her back against him, asking for more wordlessly as little mewls spilled helplessly from her mouth. She was wet and needy, taking both of his fingers with ease. Her mind was white hot; she could only concentrate on the pleasure, the swirl of his digits inside as he knew exactly where and how to touch her to bring her to her breaking point.

Her orgasm was building fast, his fingers grinding into her and thumb pressing over her clit. She spread her legs further for him, the first wave of pleasure washing over her as she began to come around his fingers. She swore she saw glittering stars.

“You belong to me, yes?” She heard the older man growl into her ear as her orgasm waned; his voice laced with lust and his breathing labored. She made a small noise in her throat in response. “Say it.” He demanded as he crushed his thumb against her swollen clit again, causing her to cry out and then repeat his words.

“I belong to you, Albert.” She breathed, her pussy aching for more. She felt empty, even with two of his (now slick) fingers pressed inside. She wanted more, wanted bigger. She needed his cock. She craved the stretch and the burn as he entered her after leaving her empty for two weeks, craved his fist wrapped in her hair and his seed deep inside. “Please, fuck me.”

He withdrew his fingers, causing Jill to whine in their absence. She peeled the battle suit off of her shoulders, down her back and to her hips. Her shoes came off next and hit the metal flooring with a _clack_ before she could peel the rest of the suit off. She draped it over the couch, shivering as the still, warm air of the room washed over her. Without Wesker touching her and grounding her, she became aware of the shifting colors and patterns again.

She found herself reaching out, just past the older man as he began to disrobe, fingers splaying and trying to touch the twisting surface. Her fingers brushed against nothing, being jolted back to reality again as Wesker wrapped his much larger hand around her wrist.

“Dearheart,” He brought his hand to his body, letting her feel the hard muscle just beneath his skin. He was in shape as he had been in their S.T.A.R.S. days, trim and muscular. He hadn’t really aged since that fateful day in 1998 and Jill had no complaints.

She wet her lips, tracing the curve of his stomach. She wasn’t surprised to find him ready and rock hard as her attention dropped lower. Her fingers grasped just the tip, gasping softly. When she focused on him, it was like the rest of the world melted into muted colors and he was all that mattered. Each touch was like hot electricity running through her body.

She touched him, both fingers brushing over every single inch of his erection. She was completely enraptured by his body, despite having seen it a hundred times before. He seemed even bigger than normal; if that was even possible.

Her former Captain had always been well endowed; she remembered the first time he took her, bent over his desk in the S.T.A.R.S office and how much it _hurt_ and how much he _liked_ making it hurt. He barely let her close her fist around him and begin to stroke when he gave a shuddering breath and ordered her to stop.

In one swift motion he picked her up, hands digging into her soft, creamy thighs as he positioned her over his stiff prick. The head of his cock parted her slick lips slowly before he entered her. Most of him fit with ease; but the last two inches always took a bit of negotiation. It always stretched and hurt her and he loved the desperate sounds that she gave every time as he settled inside. It was a mix between a moan and a cry and it set him on fire.

Not wanting to wait until he was ready to start fucking her, Jill wrapped her legs around his waist, causing herself to sink the rest of the way down on his cock. She gasped, the intrusion stretching _burning_ inside as she acclimated. She mouthed something silently against his ear for a moment as she locked her hands behind his neck. He held her there with ease, hands on her hips.

“Albert, it’s so _big,_ ” She groaned, a shudder working itself up her back. She finally felt full. She loved it. She felt him smirk against her temple in response.

At first, he fucked her deep and slow, taking the time to draw out entirely only to plunge every inch back in – feeling her squeeze around him and the heat build in her core. She was practically dripping, her juices running down the length of his cock.

He kissed her again, hard, tongue pushing past her lips and immediately into her mouth to claim it as his own. She groaned in response, curling her legs tighter around his waist. She wanted to be closer. She was already on the crest of her second orgasm, each thrust bringing her closer. He had learned relatively early on that he couldn’t really make her come with _only_ the command, but he could bring her right up to the edge and she wouldn’t be able to help it. He didn’t know which he liked more; telling her she wasn’t allowed to come but bringing her up to that edge over and over again until she was in tears, or making her come over and over again until she couldn’t stand.

“Come for me, Jillian,” He growled into her ear. It wasn’t two seconds before her breathing went ragged and she came again, this time around his cock. Her moans melted away for just a moment as he continued to fuck her before her voice began to rise in a crescendo again. Her toes curled against him and she threw her head back. She raked her fingernails across his back.

She could feel every tiny movement, every small roll of his hips, every twitch of his cock inside her. It took her a moment to realize the breathy little pleads falling on her ears were coming from her. She was entirely absorbed into every bit of his being; the sweat slicking the back of his neck, his natural scent bleeding through his spicy, expensive cologne, the way his breath was catching in his throat. His pheromones drove her wild, made her ache deep inside.

“Your cunt is so hungry for me,” He groaned, sucking her earlobe into his mouth and biting it hard between his perfect teeth. “Absolutely dripping, dearheart. Do you like your owner fucking you like this?”

“Yes,” She cried. _Your owner._ She _was_ owned - _completely_ \- by Wesker. There was something about those words that set her insides on fire, made her eyes roll back into her head and another little mewl escape her lips. She dug her nails into his back again until he hissed in response, drawing away and leaving perfect little half-moons in the skin, red and inflamed.

Wesker’s pace began to increase again, teeth sinking into the side of her neck and then her shoulder, harder the second time. He dragged his tongue lazily over that spot, tasting blood. He gave a low groan, pursing his lips and drawing that patch of skin into his mouth. He savored the taste, iron mixing with sweat.

“I can feel you throbbing around me, Jill.” He nipped the skin on her jawline, fingers digging tighter into the skin on her thighs. He bottomed out inside of her, causing a sharp pain to shoot through her stomach as his cockhead grazed her cervix. It hurt for a second but the pain melted away quickly.

He spun around and took a seat on the edge of the couch. If he had been human, his legs would have grown tired and sore a long time ago; thankfully for both of them, he wasn’t. He just wanted a slightly different angle, wanted to hit her most sensitive spots. Wanted to make her desperate and shake and cry for him.

“Lean back.” He ordered and she did. She kept her fingers linked behind his neck and leaned away from him, allowing him to brush against her g-spot with every stroke. Her body began to tremble, her head lolling back with each thrust. She could think of nothing but her _need_ for this, to be fucked so raw and deep and _hard_ by the man she so adored until they both had nothing left to give.

She heard herself pleading again. It was strange; she hardly felt her mouth moving, hardly heard her voice over the breathy whimpers and the sounds of slick flesh on flesh.

“Please, Albert, come inside, please.” She needed it, every last drop, while he was buried as deeply as he could. She moved her hips to meet him half way in his strokes, movements growing more and more desperate against him.

Wesker grit his teeth, placing his palms on her shoulders and bringing her down onto his cock a few more times – hard – before he buried himself to the hilt and let release wash over him. He stayed deep inside of her, thick ropes of his semen coating her insides. She whimpered and throbbed around him, her toes curling again. He stilled inside and stayed there, capturing her mouth in a kiss. He bit her lip with bruising force when drawing away, causing her to give a strangled cry.

She slumped forward again, burying her face in the crook of his neck. His skin was slick there; smelled like sweat and dirt. It made another shock of arousal spread through her body. She didn’t know how long they were linked like this. He was hard for quite a while, his erection flagging after she’d caught her breath. She watched the shapes and colors again, dancing on the plain wall across from the couch. The device in her chest whirred to life again, causing the holes in her chest to tingle lightly as the dose of p30 was administered.

“You’re mine.” He growled one last time, grasping her jaw between his thumb and forefinger, bringing her eyes up to lock with his. She nodded once, a soft, tired smile spreading on her face. She was absolutely spent. There was a dull ache between her thighs as he finally slid out of her.

He stretched out on the couch, taking the moment to bask in their mutual afterglow. She curled against him, her eyes fluttering closed. She listened to his breath, calm and quiet. He stroked her bare back with the tips of his fingers, tracing the curve of her spine.

He loved every part of her. She was perfect.

She was all his.

“Dearheart?” He asked after a few moments of silence, punctuated only by soft noises from Jill. When she gave no response, he wrapped her in her cloak and slipped out from beneath her.

Once he was thinking a bit more clearly, he made a couple of notes in a small leather bound journal about the effects of the gas. It hadn’t been an ideal way to test and Irving would be receiving punishment for his mistake, but the results had proven … interesting, to say the least.

After he was dressed, he slung the battle suit over his shoulder, picking up Jill’s sleeping form carefully next. He wrapped the cloak around her further so the African sun wouldn’t burn her skin as he carried her back to their room. He was bound to be ready for round two soon.


End file.
